You Would to Tell Him
by Anti-canon
Summary: Three time Cas wanted to tell Dean he loved him, and one time he didn't have to.


**A/N: This was written for thedeadonarrival over at DA. She was the very first person to put me on her watch, and has been hugely supportive of all my writings. ^^ So, this is a small thank-you. She asked for "_Passionate... bottom!Cas_" and I genuinely hope this is what she was looking for, even though I think I read passionate a little differently than I should have. :P. Please R&R! They are my life-force!**

It's raining outside. You watch the cooling curtain of it from the doorway of an ancient church, head cocked and lips parted in a moment of quiet revelation. There are so many things here that no one takes the time to appreciate and it pulls at the strings of your heart. You know that there are people out there right now- cursing at the sudden downpour and rushing to get home and grouse with others about their interrupted plans. You remember a time when people used to pray for the rains, when they would dance for them, and in them when they finally came. As you reach a hand out to let the drops gather and overflow, you wonder why they cannot see the beauty in it. There are few things so pure and fresh and as you step out into the storm- it is invigorating. You wish to stay there, bask in this still moment, but you have places to be and people that need you. Sometimes it is tiring.

In the blink of an eye you are halfway around the world, and as some kind of cosmic gift, it is still raining. It only takes a moment for you to adjust and you instantly spot the familiar lines of the Impala parked just feet away. The rain glistens on its metal and marks the outline of it in a bright shimmer, distinguishing the car from the black of the night that surrounds it. Your eyes drag over it to the hood, where Dean is lunging with his hands folded behind his head. He had looked over at the fluttering sound of your arrival, and though he is smiling, you can tell he is troubled. Not many people sit out in the rain for joy anymore.

You walk over and have to make a mental note of the "personal space" that Dean so values. You would not pay it any mind elsewise. Still, you loom over him as he returns to staring at the black sky- stars covered by the clouds. He does not speak so neither do you. You stare at his face and spend a few minutes attempting to count the freckles that smatter his nose. You think you could get an accurate count if you didn't always get distracted by the heavy wisp of his eyelashes when he blinks. The sweep across the very tops of his cheekbones and only barely, but it is always enough to catch your attention, and you lose your place immediately. His eyes are a captivating emerald with more colors that you could imagine and more facets that the gem you compare them to. His lips are full and chapped and he purses them when he catches you staring.

You know that you should look away, apologize, something. But those are human mannerisms and you are not, so you allow yourself this. When he snorts amusedly and turns his eyes back to the sky a smile twitches at your lips, unbidden. Rivulets of rain catch in his hair and run down the sides of his cheeks. You think you could watch them forever and there are so many things you want to say. You would to tell him of his beauty, you would to tell him you find nothing so captivating as the hold of his stare, you would to tell him you could spend hours lost in the lilt of his voice. You would to tell him you love him, but you don't.

* * *

><p>You would to tell him you love him the first time you kiss, but his lips hold the copper tang of blood and his body feels limp in your arms. You had never regret your fall so much as in this moment when his dimming eyes look up to you in prayer and the best you can do is cover the wound and kiss him again. His body shakes and you wonder if it is from the intimacy you have finally shared or because his skin is growing cold. The fall foliage around you is on fire with colors that demand your attention and its radiance seems to challenge the sadness of his moment. It dares you to find a more befitting ground for this demise. The air is awash with the earthy smells of this time of year and laying back across bed of orange and yellow- a streak of red blooming beneath him- Dean seems to have found a form of peace.<p>

He is yet again beautiful here, the passionate flame of his surroundings mirroring the life that flickers so dangerously in your grasp. But unlike the leaves you are determined not to see him lose his color and fall away- forgotten. Not again. For all the wonderful things you have seen in the world your father created, none have been so wonderful as young Winchester boy withering in your arms. You have told many a person the ways of life- that it all must end and you should never feel sorry for it- but for the first time in your life you do not believe it.

How could a world without Dean possibly go on? How could the sun keep rising, the waves keep rolling, the stars keep shining. Just as you have begun to find their beauty, you know that without him you could never again appreciate it. You would to tell him it will all be okay, you would to tell him there will be no more pain, you would to tell him he will be at peace. You would to tell him you love him, but you don't.

* * *

><p>You writhe beneath the surge of his muscled body and scrabble at the planes of his back. After almost having to say goodbye the two of you have never wasted another moment, and now you are indulging in the basest of your human desires that have begun to make themselves known. It is so much… more than you could have ever imagined as he takes from you what no one will ever get to again. It lights up the nerves in your body like nothing else could ever do and you have no qualms with letting your vocal cords voice this in whatever form they may. Your bodies work in tandem and the sweet slide of them makes it, all of it, worth it.<p>

Your name is constant on his lips as he claims you for his own. He marks you in every way imaginable and you happily let him, feeding into the way he whispers, '_Mine_' against your skin. He is everywhere at once and you think that your brain is going to overload with all the sensations that you do not have the focus to catalogue no matter how badly you wish you could. The air in the room has become thick and heated with the heavy breaths you both take and the muted sunlight that filters through the drapes throw Dean into a barely lit silhouette. And even though he is taking you in a cheap motel, on top of musty sheets, with the tv on in the background, it is everything you could have ever wanted.

You are the first to reach your peak, mouth open in a silent scream, and you are unsure whether this is due to your own virginal nature or Dean's skilled one. But as he guides you through the aftershocks, it doesn't matter. It does not take long for clarity to return and once it does you are eager to coax the same marvel from him. There is no more hesitation between the two of you and it is easy to be so intimate with each other. He keeps his gaze locked on yours and bites his lip harshly as you draw it from him and his body tenses, taut as a spring before going lax beside you. You would to tell him how amazing this was, you would to tell him you wish to lay like this forever, you would to tell him that this is just the beginning. You would to tell him you love him, but you don't.

* * *

><p>It has been almost a year now, and though things have slowed down, you do not think it will ever cool down. It will always be this burning thing that threatens to consume you. You wait in the quiet motel room, feeling it prickle and lick at the insides of your stomach. Being away from him doesn't lessen it, it only stokes the flames. But you are patient as you watch the fog roll across the ground outside the window. You are unsurprised that your relationship has only made you appreciate the things in this world that much more. Even though you are slowly losing what you once were- you do not mourn the loss of your grace as you once did. This mortality promises so much in exchange for your time and you give it gladly.<p>

Your smile is full and unrelenting as you see the sleek black car pull into the lot and Dean comes swaggering out of it. At the sight of you he tries to wipe a matching grin off his face with his free hand and looks down briefly before meeting your eyes. When he enters he throws the greasy paper back down on the table in front of you and abandons the fast food inside for straddling you in your chair. Though you would be more than happy to indulge in this guilty pleasure, the overwhelming odor from the bag is teasing at another. Dean rolls his eyes and laughs when he catches you eyeing the food in between kisses and climbs off to throw you the cheesy burger that sates a completely separate hunger this human body- your human body- has.

You can't keep back the moan as you take that first bite and the hot juices dribble down your chin. This is a form of heaven that you have begun to prefer over the one you knew before and you pray that it'll always be yours. Sam is going to be due back any time soon- fetching a salad for himself and hoping to miss the "perverse pleasure you and Dean take" in eating fatty foods. So what if the two of you groan while eating? Pleasurable noises are meant to be voiced when you experience pleasurable things. As you watch Dean from across the table, licking pie and whipped cream from his fingers while waggling his eyebrows suggestively you find yourself in a familiar place. You would to tell him you are finally happy, you would to tell him you would not change a thing, you would to tell him you will stay by his side as long as he will have you. And you do. You would to tell him you love him, but he beats you to it.


End file.
